The Emptiness
by Swagnon55
Summary: A revised version of The Emptiness story written by Shawn Milke and Dennis Lee of the band, Alesana. I read the original story myself and noticed (while this may be intentional, I wasn't a huge fan of it) that lots of the lines used relied too heavily on the album's lyrics. I revised the story so that it does not rely as heavily, but still conveys the original message.
1. Curse of the Virgin Canvas

Curse of the Virgin Canvas

The first rays of sunlight seeped through the open window and a slight breeze ruffled the white curtains, causing them to sway dreamily. I felt the warmth of the morning sun melt over my face, matching the warmth I felt in my heart. I slowly opened my eyes and rolled over to face my love lying next to me, still under the magical spell of slumber. Her bleached blonde hair flowed from the back of her skull – which was facing me – and trailed further under the abyss of the covers. She matched the color of the white bed sheets when coupled with the small, white dress she was adorned in. The sun's rays only illuminated my side of the bed leaving her figure still shrouded in shadows.

Overcome with feelings of tenderness and love, I leaned over to wake her with a kiss. When she failed to stir, I placed another tender kiss upon her cheek. I put my hand on her shoulder and gently shook her, but she still didn't respond.

"Annabel," I whispered, hoping that she would wake. Again, she failed to rouse. Upon further investigation, I noticed that something was off about her. For the third time, I placed my lips upon her cheek; her bare skin was ice cold.

"Annabel?" I repeated her name a little louder, panic rising from my stomach. I grasped the white covers in preparation to pull them down. My sweaty palms made contact with the blanket, revealing that the cotton was surprisingly warm. I quickly pulled my hand away to discover my palm was covered with blood. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead and my stomach twisted into knots.

"Annabel!" I exclaimed again. Hot tears began spilling down my face. I desperately reached out and pulled her close to me.

_This is a nightmare…but it feels too real. Annabel can't be dead. What's going on? Someone, please, wake me up and save me from this hellish dream…_

"Tell me I'm dreaming, Annabel! Please!" I cried out. I hugged her tighter in my arms as sobs shook my body. Fresh blood trickled from her body onto my arms, the rank stench traveling up my nostrils and choking me. My Annabel couldn't possibly be gone. I refused to accept it. How would I ever be able to sleep again with this memory trapped in my mind? I kissed Annabel again between sobs and whimpered as I held her lifeless body even tighter.

The one I love was once so full of life, but now she just laid there limp and cold in my arms. Her pallid skin still glowed in the sunlight that was slowly overcoming the entire bedroom. I planted a gentle kiss on her lips as hot tears poured down my face. The touch parted her lips and blood began to trickle from the corners of her mouth. I gasped and closed my eyes, desperately attempting to trash the image. My body trembled as I prayed for this nightmare to end. My heart was hurting, my stomach was in knots, and my nostrils were clogged with the rank stench of my lover's blood.

My body grew stiff and the desire for revenge overcame me. The only problem was that I was the one with her blood on my hands. I must have done this to her. My stomach churned and I felt bile rise in my throat. I glanced down at my arms. The viscous, red liquid trickling down my skin traced the paths of my own veins.

_I'm a monster. I'm sorry, Annabel, for what I've done to you. I'm so sorry… _


	2. The Artist

The Artist

I eyed Annabel's body, frozen in fear. The glazed-over stare that she gave me made my blood run cold in my veins. I pulled her in even closer, her icy body lying limp in my embrace.

_"A mirror never lies. They know. Everybody knows."_

I lifted my head and looked at my lover. I could have sworn that I had just heard her whispering in my ear, but it must have been a hallucination. The stench of blood was making my head spin.

_"Do you not see what they see? Everybody knows…"_

Millions of thoughts swam through my head, thickening the silence in the empty bedroom. I couldn't get rid of the hallucinatory voices, but the least I could do was get rid of Annabel's body. I sat up in bed and wiped the hot tears away on my shirt sleeve. I hauled her body over my shoulder and dragged her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. After setting Annabel down near the cellar door, I headed back upstairs to the kitchen to grab a knife. The silver blade glistened in the early morning sunlight as I lifted the dangerous utensil. With the weapon in my grasp, I made my way back towards where my love rested stone-cold near the cellar.

_What am I doing? I must be going insane. I'm the only one who knows, but I just can't shake this awful feeling. Someone's watching me. I can feel their presence – something dark that doesn't belong._

I opened the cellar door. The shadows of the hollow, concrete block reached out to greet me like I was an old friend. I hauled Annabel's body down the stairs, handing her over to their clutches. I constantly was glancing over my shoulder, as if someone – or something – was watching me, following every one of my hasty movements. I finally set her down on the icy stone floor; her body temperature left her indistinguishable from the rest of the cellar. My movements became more and more frantic as I desperately combed the darkness for a place to hide her.

_The bricks. The bricks are loose. _

I reached over to the wall and placed my palm on one of the bricks. A chill crawled up my spine as I felt the frigid surface of the stone. I wrapped my fingers around the edges of the block and pulled it towards me, removing it from the wall. I returned to Annabel and forced myself to meet her sinister stare.

I knelt down next to my love and touched my lips to hers for the last time. Hot tears spilled over and drenched my cheeks once again. My fingertips were still soaked with her blood when I reached out to close her eyes. I then returned to my work, removing the bricks from the wall one-by-one. The lump in my throat grew with each brick I took out until I had cleared enough space to fit her body into the wall. My own tears blinded me as I reached out and started clawing at the dirt wall with my bloody hands, digging out a hole for Annabel to rest in. The angry red color of the blood on my fingers mixed with the dark brown dirt, creating an ugly muddle of smelly earth. I hauled her body over to the hole and gently arranged her inside. I then cupped my hands and began to scoop the cold, bloody dirt back into the hole to cover her up. After replacing the bricks, I turned on my heel and headed back up the stairs into my empty abode.

The hallway I emerged in was filled with shadows. The entire day had passed me by and I hadn't even noticed. Every event felt like a blur as I had blindly stumbled through the motions, almost robotically. I closed the cellar door behind me and attempted to lock it. Along with the blood and dirt, my palms were now coated with a new substance: sweat.

_I have to get away from here. I have to run. No one can know. But I can't leave without seeing her one last time…_

I squeezed my eyelids together and attempted to get a grip on reality as my mind spun out of control. I couldn't fight the urge to run any longer – I just had to give in to it. The muscles in my legs tensed as they fought my mind for control. I finally gave in and lunged up the stairs and out the front door, not bothering to close it behind me. I sprinted as fast as my feet could carry me. Annabel's voice filled my ears as my feet pounded on the trodden earth. I shook my head to try and get her voice out.

I made the mistake of turning to glance over my shoulder as the sickening feeling I was being watched flushed over me again. Looking at the house, I saw that there was someone standing on the porch.

_Who is that? What are they doing at my house? It doesn't matter; I have to go. I have to run. I have to get away from her…_

In my desperation, I picked up more and more speed. I became a part of the night as I disappeared over the horizon, leaving the grisly murder scene behind me.


	3. A Lunatic's Lament

A Lunatic's Lament

_The depth of a man's soul cannot be measured in meters or fathoms, but rather it is – in my opinion – only quantified by his proximity to heaven and hell. _

I kept running well through the night, fueled by my desire to escape any remaining memories of Annabel that I retained. Sadly, my attempts were to no avail. Thoughts of Annabel haunted my mind – her face, her hair, her voice, everything about her. Forgetting her was as difficult as trying to remember someone I had never met.

I approached the first few buildings of a nearby city as I came up over a hill. I stopped running and gazed up at the rooftops, noticing the first hints of daylight coming around. Laughter began to bubble in my chest and rise in my throat until it spilled out past my lips – yet another sign of my quickly budding insanity. I began to head further into town, smiling to myself the whole way. I reached an alley and ducked inside. My giddiness reverted back to despair as I leaned against the wall and slid down into a sitting position. I thought I could convince myself that I could literally run away from all my problems, but I just felt even worse than before.

The sun had risen fully by this point. I remained in the alley, silently watching it climb higher and higher. I eventually stood up, my head spinning from the sudden movement after having been stoic for so long. The sound of children laughing mingled with the sounds of drunken piano playing from the nearby tavern. The joyful noises only irritated me in my despair.

I gingerly stumbled out into the sunlight, squinting from the sudden glare. My thoughts all assaulted me at once as I blindly wandered down the street. My feet ushered me towards the town tavern, whose walls seemed to be bursting at the seams with the jubilant sounds of laughter and chatter.

I approached the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. I slowly pulled it shut behind me and locked it from the inside, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching me. A Cheshire grin crept onto my face as I did so. My eyes darted over the scene as my thoughts bounced around in my skull. I could literally feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as my heart threatened to burst through my chest. I took a deep breath to calm my frazzled nerves and seated myself at the bar. I ordered my drink and just stared into the murky liquid, my finger tracing circles around the rim of the glass.

_Why am I here? Alcohol isn't the type of poison that I need right now._

My heart was still racing, so I quickly chugged my drink to steady my nerves. I held my glass in one hand as my other hand felt around in my pocket for my knife. My eyes were trained down at the swirling liquid in the cup, upset by the motion of my swig. I trained my gaze upwards and saw the unthinkable: Annabel. There she stood in the mirror behind the bar, drenched with her own blood. She looked as though she were screaming and crying in pain. A grin split my face again and I set my drink down.

I stood up from my seat and took a step towards the person who happened to be closest to me. He was a tall, young man with light brown hair and shining blue eyes. He seemed so full of promise; he had his whole life ahead of him – unlike me. Bitterness flushed over me and I grabbed his shoulder from behind.

_Tonight, we all go to hell. _


	4. The Murderer

The Murderer

_Had it only been a different night, a different place, or a different kind of man passing by the threshold of that innocent pub, the events that had transpired at that point would have undoubtedly been drastically different. I can only guess if anyone outside that place had a clue when those exclamations of mirth became the desperate screams of the helpless, begging for their very lives._

My grip remained steady on the young man's shoulder as my free hand slid into my pocket and slowly drew out my knife. He lowered the drink he held in his hand and began to turn towards me. I pressed the cold, steel blade to his throat and he immediately froze. I brought my face so close to his ear that I could feel the cartilage on my cracked lips. I then whispered five macabre words:

"Are you ready to die?"

The man remained perfectly still as I sliced his throat open with the knife. Blood gushed from the open wound, soaking the blade and my hand. I quickly turned to another man and stabbed him in the chest repeatedly. I watched the light leave his eyes as his body collapsed to the ground. I heard the screams of women and glass shattering as they dropped their drinks and ran for the door. I laughed as I watched them struggle with the lock. I grabbed two more men and quickly stabbed them, not stopping to watch their struggle. A woman screamed and sprinted over to kneel next to one of the men who lay dying on the floor. Mercilessly, I plunged the knife into her back, taking pride in the red stain that was quickly growing larger and larger in the cotton of her white dress. One man had managed to pry open the tavern window and people were pouring out of it onto the balcony. I let them escape and smiled widely to myself as I watched my dying victims writhe on the floor. Their breaths came in choked gasps as they attempted to draw in oxygen through their blood-blocked windpipes.

My clothes were now coated with a fresh layer of blood. I mused as the sticky, red liquid ran down my skin and dripped over the edge of the blade. I unlocked the tavern door and headed back into the town, relishing the sense of immortality that I felt.


	5. Hymn for the Shameless

Hymn for the Shameless

I stepped out into the bright sunlight and faced the desolate street corner. The once bustling hub of social interaction had been abandoned when the bloody victims of my joyous rampage had begun shoving themselves out through the tavern window. Strangely enough, the killings had filled me with a sense of fulfilment and purpose as opposed to guilt. I felt invincible.

I continued to ponder my actions as I walked down the street, heading nowhere in particular. The more I thought about it, the higher I felt. The memory filled me with so much mirth that it moved me to hysterical laughter.

_When did all of this start? How long has my mind been gone? _

Annabel. Annabel's death was the turning point for my mental stability. The thought of her filled me with a joy greater than the one I was feeling right now. As the realization that she was truly gone hit me once more, the ecstasy that had overtaken me evaporated. I lifted my head to the blood-red gleam of the evening sky. Amazingly, Annabel's face had taken form in the vapors of the late summer clouds. I stood entranced, not entirely believing that what I was seeing was real. At last, the vaporous lips parted ever so slightly so that the softest of whispers could escape from the crevice:

"_A love like this can never truly die."_

Finally hearing Annabel's sweet voice again filled me with a warm feeling of security. For the first time since her death, I finally felt at peace within my own mind.

_Could her love save me from this? Can Annabel be the key to ending my insanity?_


	6. The Thespian

The Thespian

The longer I wandered down those meandering city streets, the surer I became of my sense of purpose. The moon rose higher and higher in the sky, obscuring the shape Annabel's face took in the sky. While I couldn't see it, I knew it was still there. She would always be there. I could hear her voice calling my name, as loud as if she was right in front of me.

_Where are you?! I can hear you! I know you're there! Save me from this fevered misery and just show yourself already!_

Her face stuck in my mind. Everywhere I turned, she seemed to be there. She was always just a few steps ahead of me; I could never catch up to her. She was haunting me, making the memories of her death all too real for me to bear.

_There must be some way to bring her back. There are too many memories to just discard now. The first time we met, the first time I told her I loved her…_

_ I remember walking down the train tracks with her in the summer. We shared stories of our past to break the silence that came in between our bursts of laughter. I can still recall the way the sun lit up Annabel's face, soft and beautiful. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, coming to a rest just above the small of her back. Her brown eyes seemed to capture the glow of the sunlight, holding it hostage to make them sparkle like diamonds. Her mere smile took my breath away. I remember the heat that rushed through me when she took her petite hand and twined her fingers through mine. When she looked into my eyes, it was as if the rest of the world just melted away. _

_ "I love you," I whispered, just barely letting the air escape from between my parted lips._

My memories of Annabel filled me with a real sense of purpose. The absentminded shambling I had been doing before morphed into a frantic sprint towards home where I knew she would be. She had said it herself: a love like this can never truly die. Annabel's delicate figure tempted me all the way back to my house. She danced in every window pane I passed, every puddle I splashed through, and every haphazardly cast shadow on the side of a building.

I finally saw a familiar shape emerge over the side of a hill, the door still open from when I had rushed away the previous night. I stumbled up to the porch and reached for the rail to steady myself. In my haste, I failed to notice the tall, slender figure who loomed over me at the top of the stair case. He smirked as he spun a blade in his hand – still freshly coated with what could only be Annabel's blood.

"I've been expecting you for some time, sir. Allow me to introduce myself," the man said to me, his voice emerging like a growl from the back of his throat. "I'm the one who pulls on all the strings, son. You're very lucky that I don't kill you where you stand." He rocked back on his heels, leering all the while.

_This can't be real...Annabel really is gone and which means there's nothing left…And this man is the one who killed her…_

He locked eyes with me, sending a chill up my spine that caused me to recoil as if he had actually struck me. My stomach began to churn with apprehension.

"They call me the Thespian," he spoke once more. He stepped down from the stairs, never taking his eyes off of mine. Suddenly, like a shadow, he took off into the night – disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared. I knew that I should have followed him, but for some reason I just stood there, attempting to organize my jumbled thoughts.

_The night sky feels as though it has never been darker. With the fleeting hope of vengeance compelling me, I will attempt to recollect myself and resume my chase. But what is it that I am chasing? Am I really chasing anything at all? Or am I simply drowning myself in revenge to avoid the horrifying truth? I've lost the only thing that made me feel truly alive. Are my hands responsible? Are his? Who was he? Who was the madman who stood before me tonight? I swear I've seen his face before…I know I've seen his face before…_


	7. Heavy Hangs the Albatross

Heavy Hangs the Albatross

I tried and failed to organize my muddled thoughts as I stared out over the horizon in the direction where the Thespian had disappeared into the night. I may not have been sure of much, but I did know one fact to be certain: Annabel really was dead.

My feet slowly began to take over and carry my empty husk of a body back towards town. The worn appendages dragged across the paved stone roads – the same roads I had forced them to traverse time and time again in my anguished lament. The heavy feeling in my heart spread throughout my entire body until it the weight became too much for me to physically bear. I stumbled and fell to the ground with a lame thud.

_If she's gone, then what's left here for me? I have nothing without her. She was the only girl I ever loved…the only one I still love…_

I couldn't get her out of my mind. Thoughts and memories raced through my brain, bringing me closer to my resolve. I no longer carried any feelings of vengeance, only fleeting sanity as despair took hold over my body. There was no hope that I could ever be with my precious Annabel again. The only way for me to reunite with her would be for me to join her in death.

I dragged myself into a nearby alley way and fell over. Using the cold, stone wall of the adjacent building as a crutch, I slowly pulled myself up to my knees. I lifted my head to the sky and tears began to stream down my face. I drew my trusty blade from its rightful place in my pocket. Soon, my blood would join with the blood of all the innocent people that I had slaughtered in the tavern. The viscous, red liquids would coalesce until they became indistinguishable from each other. That would become my legacy: forgotten – just as easily as the rest. I brought the edge of the blade up to my neck and pressed down against my skin.

_The dizziness stuns me. Would someone please distract me? Can I really get through this? Can I really betray myself? For better or for worse, remember forever…_

The tears streaming down my face began to intermingle with the blood that was slowly oozing from the wound in my neck. I glanced down at the fresh stain on the collar of my shirt, fully aware of what I was doing for the first time in what felt like ages. When I lifted my eyes, however, I noticed that I wasn't alone in the alley way. There was a slight silhouette standing before me. Her long hair fell to a rest just above the small of her back and her piercing, dark brown eyes were identical to Annabel's.


	8. The Lover

The Lover

_ Dead girls don't just appear out of thin air…_

I opened my eyes as the smell of cooking bacon drifted into my nostrils. The sound of gentle footfalls on wooden floorboards below me told me that I was no longer in the alley way where I had passed out. I raised myself up into a sitting position, the bed that I occupied creaking softly beneath the weight of my movement. The blankets that were wrapped around me had the freshest hue of pure white.

_That girl in the alley had to have been Annabel…I swear it was her. But, Annabel is dead…it couldn't have been her…_

I placed my open palm down on the bed beside me. I was met by a crinkling sound, quite unlike the nature of bed sheets. Glancing down, I noticed that there was a note pressed against my palm, held fast by my clammy sweat. Separating the page from my hand, I noted that it had the words, "Come downstairs for a meal" scrawled across it in neat, flowing handwriting.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hoisted myself up. There was a vanity across the room with a single, oval-shaped mirror hung on the wall. I used it to help me fix my shirt – still tainted with blood, unfortunately. Whose, I could no longer tell. I just hoped that the girl downstairs wouldn't mind. I exited the room and began to descend the wooden staircase.

"I'm over here," the soft sound of a woman's voice drifted from the other room. Biting my lip, I gingerly took a step towards the source. I turned the corner and saw the owner of the voice clearly for the first time. She was adorned in a simple, white gown which was nearly the same color as her bleached-blonde hair, which was tied up with a ribbon to keep it out of her face while she worked. The sunlight cascading in through the open window caused her pale skin to shine, giving her a ghostlike quality. Her small hands worked surely and diligently over the food she was so carefully preparing.

"Have a seat," she said, meeting her eyes with mine, "and don't look so worried." Her brown eyes were identical to Annabel's in every way. It was making me feel very uneasy.

_Who is this girl? It can't be her. She's dead. It's impossible…_

I took small bites of the bread the girl had set down on the table in front of me. I hadn't eaten in days and the mere scent of the food had turned my mouth into a running waterfall of saliva. When I finished eating, the girl stood and led me outside. I followed her towards the railroad tracks just beyond her property. As we walked together, we talked, laughed, and shared stories. Without meaning to, I told her nearly every aspect of my life story. I even told her about Annabel.

She stopped when we reached the tracks, turning so that her eyes met mine once more. I couldn't help but smile as I returned her loving gaze. It felt like an eternity had passed since someone had looked at me that way. It was as though she could see every part of me, even the parts that I struggled to keep hidden; yet I wasn't upset by it. It was reassuring to be able to share my troubles with this girl – I could already feel the weight leaving my chest. I was happy. Neither one of us moved a muscle, yet somehow I found her hand gingerly resting in mine. I could feel her cool breath against my lips as I bent down to be closer to her face. My heart fluttered like never before as I carefully touched my lips to hers, as though they could shatter if I pressed too hard. Suddenly, the happy fluttering of my heart gave way to a returning agony as I opened my eyes.

My face ached where it had hit and scraped against the hard, stone road. My jaw clamped down on my tongue and the disgusting mixture of blood and dirt spread throughout my mouth. My heartbeat slowed to its normal pace and I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The morning light was just starting to flow into the alley, like stream of golden water. Cruel reality had once again hit me like a freight train.

_She's gone. How much longer do I have to keep reminding myself of this fact? Annabel isn't coming back…_


	9. In Her Tomb by the Sounding Sea

In Her Tomb by the Sounding Sea

I picked myself up out of the dirt and headed out into the sunlight. The wound on my throat stung as my neck expanded to swallow a big gulp of air. The scar was long, but not deep; I would survive. I walked through the sunlight on the open sidewalk, just letting my feet carry me wherever they wanted to go.

I passed the butcher's shop, noticing a small shape in the large glass window just outside of my peripheral vision. I allowed my eyes to cross over a very faint, feminine silhouetted figure. She pushed a delicate hand through her long, blonde tresses of hair and smiled at me as I turned my head to look at her. I smiled back, causing her brown eyes to reflect pure joy. The look of anguished misery that I had become so accustomed to seeing this girl wear was no longer noticeable in her features. My heart fluttered as hope filled my body. She looked nothing like the tortured, pained version of Annabel that had appeared to me at the bar; this was my Annabel.

_It's really you this time. My Annabel has come home to me…_

I gazed into her eyes, lost in my ecstasy. She smiled back at me, reminding me of what it was like to love and be loved once again. Suddenly, a dark figure materialized behind her. Her white dress popped out against his black shirt and pants. My pulse raced as I realized the danger she was in, but I was too petrified to move. His face split into an ugly Cheshire grin as he stared me down with his dark, piercing eyes. Without breaking eye contact with me, he drew his knife and pressed it against Annabel's throat.

Annabel's complexion became completely pallid as she realized the danger she was in. Her eyes became wide saucers of fear that she fixed upon my face, as if begging me to help her. A single tear ran down her cheek as the cold blade slid across her throat, slicing through her skin as if it were butter. Blood spurted from the wound as the Thespian dropped her to the ground with the same nonchalance that someone would use to drop a piece of trash. I dove forward to catch her, but the two figures disappeared just as suddenly as they had appeared. I landed on the ground against the glass in a defeated bundle.

_She's gone…He took her again. Why? Why did he do this again?_

Seeing her death first hand finally managed to solidify the fact in my mind. Annabel was gone, but the Thespian was still alive. I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth together. Picking myself up from the ground, I continued on down the sidewalk.

_He's going to regret this. He's going to pay with his life. It's only fair…_


	10. To Be Scared by an Owl

To Be Scared by an Owl

The fact that I had no clue where to start looking for this man didn't extinguish the flame of my resolve. I knew that I was going to find him, even if I had to search a lifetime for him.

_I don't understand any of this. All I know is that he calls himself the Thespian…and he took the love of my life away from me…_

I turned and headed down another alley way. The sun's angle in the sky caused it to be blotted out entirely by the building adjacent to me, casting the entire alleyway in a black gloom. My shadow still appeared next to me on the wall, however, seeming to ignore the surrounding darkness. I was filled with an awful sense of foreboding that was only confirmed when the shadow's frame curved upward. A slender shape within the shadow's form glistened unnaturally in the dim lighting. I recognized it as the same knife that had taken Annabel's life – I would never forget the shape of that damned tool. The shadow brought down the blade and slashed it towards my throat. I felt a warm stream of fresh blood run down my neck where my old wound was, reopened by the shadow's attack. Thankfully, I had reacted quickly enough to avoid a fatal blow. Before I could think, the shadow was upon me again, brandishing that accursed weapon closer and closer towards my body.

_What's going on? My shadow can't be attacking me…It's a shadow…_

I clenched my knuckles into a tight fist and threw a blind punch towards the shadow, but my efforts were futile. I caught the sinister glimmer of the blade as it swung around to my left and plunged into the side of my torso. Blood gushed from the wound and dyed the dirt a menacing shade of dark red.

I fell to the ground, clutching the wound in my side. I flipped over onto my stomach and attempted to crawl away only to feel the stiff, metal blade sink into my back. My entire body was overcome with an unbearable pain as the tip of the knife struck a nerve on my spine. Shortly after, everything swiftly went numb. My vision clouded and the alley began spinning around me. My ears may have been ringing, but I could still hear the resounding voice that spoke to me:

"Sweetheart? Darling? Turn around. It's me. Follow my voice."

I was on the verge of losing consciousness again, but that didn't hinder my ability to recognize the voice of my lover.

_Again? How many times am I going to have to relive this torture?!_

"Everything's going to be okay, my love," she continued. "Everything will be fine. It's all over now."

I drifted off listening to the sweet poison of her voice. When I opened my eyes a bit later, I was no longer in the alley – I was in my own bedroom at my house. Despite its familiarity, a heavy sense of foreboding hung over the room. My eyes were fixed straight ahead at my reflection in the oval-shaped, full-length mirror that hung on the wall in front of me. On the bed beside me, Annabel lay in a deep slumber. I could see the steady rise and fall of her chest under the pristine, white blankets out of the corner of my eye. I knew this trick all too well. Seeing her figure should have relieved me of all my suffering, but it only intensified the pain and insanity I was already experiencing.

"SHE'S NOT REAL!" I screamed into the mirror. The intensity of the sound cracked the glass pane. I recoiled, shielding my face. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Annabel's reflection standing behind mine in the mirror. Her short, white gown was stained with blood. In her small, delicate hands twirled the knife that was still soaked in my blood. With the bitterest of smiles, she grasped the handle tightly and sunk the blade deep into my flank, curving it up and between my ribs. Darkness crept into the corners of my eyes as I slumped to the floor in a defeated heap.

_She trusted me…She gave me her love and her soul…I promised her the world in return, and somehow I had still let her down…_


	11. Annabel

Annabel

How could I have been so blind? I thought everything would be okay if I just ignored the signs of his budding insanity, but it escalated to a point I never imagined possible. It all started with those damned sketches of his. I should have seen it ahead of time. Maybe I could have prevented all of this.

He was spending more and more time on them as each day passed. Whenever he made the smallest mistake, he would go ballistic and curse at the drawings. He eventually became more and more violent, tearing his canvases to shreds and throwing bottles of paint across the room. I eventually gave up trying to clean the messes he made. The colors left permanent stains in the walls and floor that filled me with loathing every time I saw them.

He was talking to himself as well. He spoke of a character known as the "Thespian" who was ruining our relationship. I knew of no one who went by that title. It wasn't until later on that I figured out this so-called "Thespian" wasn't even real – just another figment of his demented psyche. I was fed up with him. I didn't know what to do anymore.

His mind was gone and there was no way to recover it. The reality of this fact caused my feelings for him to fade more and more each day. I no longer saw the man that I had fallen in love with nearly seven years ago. In his place was a monster that I could no longer recognize. He couldn't help losing his mind, yet I still despised him for it. He didn't even acknowledge me during the last few days I spent with him. He just sat there working silently as I stared on with animosity.

I thought he couldn't get any worse, but I was sadly mistaken. He eventually reached the highest and deadliest point of his lament.

It was shortly before dawn. I woke up in the bed that we shared as the first shafts of morning light touched upon my face. I cracked open my eyes and rolled over to discover that he wasn't in bed beside me. I assumed he was downstairs working on his sketches again. The day was not yet old enough to light the entire house so I grabbed a candle before heading downstairs. I was careful not to make any noise as I crept down the hallway for fear of setting him off on another of his famous rampages. Suddenly, he appeared in the dim light cast by the flame of my candle. His eyes captured the light of the flame and reflected back a crazed expression. It was as if the intensity of his stare created its own fire. In his hands, he held a small knife which glistened unnaturally in the faint candlelight.

"Oh Annabel, sweet, beautiful Annabel," he crooned in a raspy voice. "It's your fault that I'm this way, you and the damn Thespian. I handed you a knife and my heart, but now, I'm afraid that the dream is over." He shot me a crooked smile before lunging after me with the dagger.

Luckily I was able to react before he got too close. I threw my candle at him and watched as it struck him in the side of the face and rolled down his chest. He screamed out in pain and dropped his knife as the hot wax seared his flesh.

I lunged after the knife, grasping the cool, metal handle in my trembling hands. I pushed him to the floor while he was still dealing with his burns.

"Stop, Annabel! Please!" he begged as he hit the ground. I knelt down beside him with tears in my eyes. I could see that he was weeping as well when he gazed up at me. Never in all my years of knowing him had I seen him look so terrified.

"Sweetheart, darling, look. It's me. Listen to my voice," I said as I held the dagger to his throat. "Everything is going to be okay, my love."

He locked eyes with me, tears still pouring down his face. He didn't even attempt to resist, as if he knew there was nothing that could be done. It was for the best either way. I pressed down harder on his throat with the sharp edge of the blade before whispering in the bitterest tone I could muster:

"It's all over now."

I slit his throat in one fluid motion, the knife slicing through his skin as if it were butter. He was no longer the psychotic artist that I had loved long ago – just another lonely carcass to add to the every-growing pile.


End file.
